The Final Hours of Severus Snape
by AtheneOwl
Summary: As the title suggests, this is about the last hours of Snape's life in HIS perspective. I kept it as true to the story as I could.  Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the story. Please review so that I may improve my skills.


The Final Hours of Severus Snape

He paced back and forth in his study, occasionally glancing up at the sleeping painting of the silver-bearded wizard. He had heard that there was an intruder in Hogsmeade. However, no such person was found, but he had a strong suspicion of who it was. Finally he sat behind the desk and pulled out a photo from inside his black robes. He placed it gently on the table starring at the smiling witch and stroked her auburn hair with his forefinger. He allowed the memory of her joy to fill within him, but could not rid the feelings of agonizing guilt and loss.

Suddenly, a white hot burning in his left forearm broke his reverie. Was it possible? Had the boy so arrogantly strolled inside the castle? Had he really believed he would be able to go undetected by the Dark Lord's followers? The Dark Lord had stationed the Carrows at the Ravenclaw tower, for reasons Snape did not understand, and it seemed that Potter had fallen into the Dark Lord's hands. Snape stood up and pocketed the photograph. He walked towards the door, but took one last glance at Dumbledore's painting before pushing it open and started his way towards the Ravenclaw tower.

The halls had an eerie quietness to them not like those he was accustomed to from his many years of night time strolls. He pulled out his wand for good measure as he climbed the stairs. Suddenly he heard footsteps coming in his directions. He stepped behind a suit of armor.

"Who's there?" said a voice he recognized to be Professor McGonagall's.

As he stepped from behind the suit, wand ready in hand, he said, "It is I," in a low but steady voice. His eyes searched the air looking for any sign of Potter.

"I was under the impression that Alecto had apprehended an intruder," he continued.

"Really? And what gave you that impression?"

Snape flexed his left arm, where the Dark Mark continued to burn uncomfortably.

"Oh, but naturally," said McGonagall. "You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication, I forgot."

"I did not know that it was your night to patrol the corridors, Minerva," his eyes continued to scan the air, sure that Potter was hidden beneath his invisibility cloak.

"You have some objection?"

"I wonder what could have brought you out of your bed at this late hour?" he said, trying to weasel out a confession or hint from her lips.

"I thought I heard a disturbance," her composure remained calm and stern, though he could detect a tone of defiance.

"Really? But all seems calm." He looked into her eyes attempting to perform Legilimency, but her mind remained firmly shut. "Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist—"

Suddenly, McGonagall flicked her wrist. Instinctively, Snape cast a Shield Charm so powerful it pushed McGonagall, sending her staggering back. She pointed her wand at a nearby torch and sent its flames towards Snape. As the flames lassoed around him, heating his skin, Snape transformed the flames into a giant serpent. McGonagall had blasted the hissing monster into black smoke, which solidified into an army of daggers. He forced the suit of armor to shield him from the shower of daggers. Then he heard a number of footsteps closing in on the scene.

"Minerva!" said Professor Flitwick. He was accompanied by Professor Sprout and Professor Slughorn. "No!" he squealed, he wand pointed at Snape. "You'll do no more murder at Hogwarts!"

At those words the small professor cast a spell that hit the suit of armor causing it to come to life. Its arms wrapped around Snape, attempting to crush every bone in his body. He struggled to push away from it, but as he did, he sent it flying back towards his colleagues. As everybody laid momentarily distracted, he turned towards an empty classroom and shot a spell at the window, causing it to shatter open. He stepped up on the ledge and jumped. Instead of falling, however, he felt his body turn light as smoke and let the wind support him. From a distance he could hear the screams of Professor McGonagall, "Coward!_COWARD!_"

That was the second time he'd been called a coward, if only they'd knew…

Snape was now in a predicament, he could not just stroll back into Hogwarts without having curses flying at him, but he also couldn't leave. He'd promised Dumbledore, he'd promised Lily, he would keep Harry safe. He still had Dumbledore's message to deliver, but how? He wouldn't be able to whisk the boy away, not under all the protection he had. Not to mention it was impossible to spot him under that stupid cloak of his. Even if he did manage to find and talk to him, Potter wouldn't listen, he wouldn't believe. He couldn't send a message by Patronus for others may overhear, though Potter would be willing to listen to it, seeing as the doe had led him to the sword of Gryffindor; he couldn't send a letter by owl, for it would surely be intercepted and wouldn't be inconspicuous. He needed to find a safe place to think.

He passed over the Whomping Willow and thought of the passage hidden beneath it. The Shrieking Shack would be an easy place to take refuge, but it was too far to know for sure what was happening at Hogwarts. He glanced at the treetops from the Forbidden Forest and easily dismissed the idea. He floated over the Black Lake and spotted an old boat shack. He let his body drop and regained the sensation of his usual weight. He remembered coming here as a boy. This was where he and Lily spent stolen hours away from the starring eyes of their fellow classmates. It was a place they could take refuge from the prejudices of the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry and simply enjoy each other's company. At least it was until their fifth year at Hogwarts, when at a moment of anger, jealousy, and embarrassment he made the biggest mistake of his life.

He pushed open the door, noticing that nothing had changed. Boats were stacked on two opposite walls. The third wall was decorated with a sole bench. Opposite the bench, where the fourth wall should have been, was an opening, the water from the Black Lake spilling into it. He sat for a moment where he had spent endless hours of his youth, miraculously, in the company of the most beautiful creature to touch this earth. He remembered the way she would wave her arms about whenever she recollected a story, or how she rested her head on his shoulder during moments of silence. He could easily hear the echo of her voice bouncing off the walls and singing in his ears. A simple melody tucked into the deepest crevices of his heart.

But it was all gone now. He felt the familiar pain in his chest, like an elephant was sitting on him. He couldn't breathe. He stood and walked towards the water, desperate for some fresh air. When he finally tucked away every beautiful memory and regained his composure, he began to pace the floor trying to come up with a plan to inform the boy of his destiny. It seemed like hours had passed before anything of significance happened. The Mark on his left arm stung, it was a different sensation than the burn he felt earlier. He knew this feeling meant the Dark Lord was summoning his followers.

He didn't have much time left. If the Dark Lord was summoning his Death Eaters, war was surely on the way. He had to get back into the castle and find the boy, it was his only choice. He had to be able go unnoticed, he couldn't be seen. He stepped out of the shack, casting the spell that would allow him to swim through the air. He blended easily with the night sky, he doubted anybody would notice him circling the castle. He found the window he had been searching for. Landing on the window sill he tugged at the window, but wouldn't budge. "Alohomora." Amazingly, it worked; he thought it would have been harder to enter the headmaster's office. He stepped into the office and pointed his wand at the door. _Colloportus. Muffliato._ Once sure that he was safe there he turned to face the largest painting in the room. Dumbledore remained asleep.

"Albus." His voice was even. The bearded wizard stirred in his chair but remained asleep. "Albus." He repeated, not raising it. The portrait of Dumbledore slowly opened his eyes, looking through his half-moon spectacles for the source of his disrupted sleep.

"Severus?" his voice was soft, "Is something the matter?"

"The boy has entered the castle and the Dark Lord knows. He has summoned his followers, I believe a war is soon to follow."

There was a pause, "You must remember you promise, Severus."

Snape nodded once. He buried his feelings of annoyance and exploitation. He wanted to demand answers. What was it Dumbledore had entrusted to Harry that he could not entrust to Severus? Did Dumbledore really think that he couldn't handle it? What with all the other pieces of information he has absorbed, protected, and strategically planted over the years?

He hushed the voices in his head. He needed to clear his mind, he needed a plan, but first and foremost, he needed to find the boy. He turned towards the door and undid his protective spells. As he curled his hand around the doorknob, there was a rumbling within every wall.

"I know that you are preparing to fight." The voice of the Dark Lord surrounded the castle. The voice was calm, a tone Snape knew to be his most threatening. Snape was sure he heard distant screams. "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood." All was silent, not even the wind stirred.

"Give me Harry Potter," the soft voice continued, "and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded." There was a pause. "You have until midnight."

The silence pressed down upon the castle once more. Every atom in Hogwarts seemed to have frozen, afraid that any movement, any sound would lead to their demise. Snape's hand was still curled around the doorknob, his knuckles prominent against his pale skin. He pulled it open, and began his way down the steps. Once behind the gargoyle that guarded the entrance, Snape cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. He felt the warm trickle over his skin, allowing him to blend in with his surroundings like a chameleon.

As he stepped around the corner, towards the staircase, a stampede of students rushed upwards. Where were they going? No doubt the other professors wanted to evacuate the students. But evacuate them _upwards_? Was there another passage out that Snape had not known of? _Obviously_, he thought to himself, _how else would have Potter entered the castle when every known passage in and out of it was guarded by Death Eaters and dementors_? Would Harry be leading the way to this passage? Snape doubted it, but he had to make sure.

He weaved his way up the stairs, not bothering to avoid bumping into the other students. Snape pushed through the crowd, skipping as many steps as he could, until he made it to the front. He saw a group of people leading: the caretaker, Filch; the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey; and the eight school prefects. Harry Potter was nowhere to be found.

He took a deep breath as frustration began to creep into his chest. He headed back down the stairs, this time more careful not to bump into the students. He found himself in front of the Great Hall. He was sure Potter had last been with Minerva, and he was sure she was in the Great Hall conducting the evacuation. He scanned the nearly empty hall, but found no sign of Potter.

He quickly looked over the heads of the many students, but it was hard to make out any particular face in the stormy sea of children. He decided to turn into the nearest passageway. He pushed open the door and quickened his pace. His feet pounded madly against the floor.

"Who's there?" said a voice of a girl. Snape slowed as he noticed the ghost of Ravenclaw. Perhaps she had seen Potter. Would it be safe to ask her? He glanced at his watch, five minutes until midnight. She might be his only hope at finding the boy.

"Have you seen Harry Potter?" Snape asked softly. He knew the Grey Lady was a temperamental ghost.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" she began to drift away.

"No! Wait! Please, I need to find him." He chose his words carefully. "I have information for him that would greatly aid in his task. Please, have you seen him?"

She gave a contemplative look in the general direction of his voice. "I—he just left." She extended her left arm to point a finger, "That way."

He turned sharply and began to run back towards the Great Hall. As he reached the entrance hall, there was a booming sound accompanied by flashing lights. It was midnight, the battle had begun. He knew he didn't have much time to enjoy the luxury of invisibility. The Dark Lord was bound to have noticed his absence during the summoning, and surely his followers would all say that they never spotted him aiding in the battle. Snape had to make sure the Dark Lord remained believing him to be a faithful servant.

He stepped onto the courtyard where a full scale battle was in session. Snape took advantage of his invisibility to send any curses at the Death Eaters. The safer he made it for Potter, the better. He ran around the courtyard trying to defend as many Hogwarts soldiers as he could. But the battle was becoming more and more savage. Death Eaters shot killing curses left and right, Acromantulas spilled from the Forbidden Forest, giants stomped on their opposers, and werewolves snapped their teeth at the necks of innocent children.

Half an hour had passed, Snape had to show himself or else the Dark Lord would be suspicious. He lifted the Disillusionment charm off of himself. It felt like someone had poured ice-water over his head. He began to head back for the castle, when a curse went flying past his head and hit the castle. The curse had blown a large hole into the wall, in which acromantulas began to crawl through. He continued on his path when another curse flew right in front of him, barely missing his nose. He continued to run, but turned his wand towards the source of the curse and sent a stunning spell in the general direction. He had just made his way to the entrance hall when he heard a familiar voice calling after him.

"Severus!" he heard a hoarse voice call after him, "Severus!"

He turned to see the figure of Lucius Malfoy trotting towards him, his light hair whipping behind him. He had the air of distress to him. His face remained unshaved and his cold grey eyes were made more daunt by the dark circles of sleepless nights.

"He wants you, the Dark Lord. In the Shrieking Shack," said Malfoy, "Now."

Severus replied with a curt nod and started for the Shrieking Shack. What did the Dark Lord want of him? Nobody noticed as he, again, cast the spell that would enable his body to format into smoke and floated towards Hogsmeade. In the air, he could see the extent of damage the grounds had taken. The castle towers sported holes in their walls, the Quidditch field alit with fire, bodies littered the floor, and the curses were fireworks marking the celebration of death and tragedy.

His body solidified at the door of the Shack. It was a tall and slanted house with window shutters hanging off the hinges. It seemed to breathe in the cold night air. The door gave a loud creak as Snape pushed it open. Not a mouse stirred the air, had he not been told that the Dark Lord was waiting here for him, he would have assumed the place deserted. With each step he took deeper inside the house, the floor moaned in protest. Turning a corner he found what appeared to be a dining room. There was a large wooden table surrounded by four chairs; a crate laid pressed against the wall which he knew hid a tunnel leading back to Hogwarts grounds.

Sitting in the nearest chair, facing the wall was a hooded figure. In front of him was a great snake. She coiled and uncoiled in midair inside a starry sphere hissing lazily. Snape walked forward, past the man, toward the opposite chair. He gave a slight bow before taking the seat.

"My Lord, you wished to speak to me?" Snape's eyes remained fixed on the snake. Suddenly he was back in the headmaster's office. He sat on the chair as Dumbeldore paced his study. _If there comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding, but keeps it safe beside him under magical protection, then I think, it will be safe to tell Harry._ He was brought back by the high cruel voice of the wizard in front of him.

"Severus," his name came out like a snake's hiss," I was beginning to think that you had lost your faith in me, that you had turned your back on me. You didn't answer to my summoning."

"I was informed of the boy's returned and tried to collect him from the castle."

"So was I, Severus."

"We have been penetrating their defenses, my Lord, their resistance is crumbling—"

"—and it is doing so without your help." Under the hood, Snape could see the gleam of the Dark Lord's red eyes. "Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there…almost."

Snape kept his composure; nearly two decades worth of spying taught him that in order to succeed in a mission one must always act as others expect you to. Calm as he may have seemed, he could not rid his sense of urgency for completing Dumbledore's task. He stood and crossed closer to the Dark Lord. His eyes skipping between the wizard and the snake.

"Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please."

The Dark Lord stood, facing Snape. His scarlet eyes however, were concentrated on the item he twirled between his hands. "I have a problem, Severus," he whispered.

"My Lord?" this had to be why he was summoned here tonight.

The Dark Lord raised a wand with his long, white fingers. Immediately, Snape recognized it as Dumbeldore's. He knew where this conversation was leading and his sense of anxiety and urgency heightened.

"Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?"

He decided that the best route, the safest route, was to feint oblivion while conducting flattery. "My—my Lord? I do not understand. You—you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."

"No," he hissed. "I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand…no. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago. No difference." he emphasized.

Snape swallowed, but otherwise kept his silence. He knew what was to come. He had to get out, he had to find Potter. The Dark Lord began to pace in front of him. His red eyes remained fixed on the Elder Wand.

"I have thought long and hard, Severus…Do you know why I have called you back from the battle?"

He kept his expression neutral, his voice calm, and his mind closed. _Yes_, he thought. He had long known that wands could change allegiances if it was won from its previous owner. The Dark Lord, no doubt, would have realized that the wand could not truly be his since he had not defeated Dumbledore himself, the Dark Lord did not kill Dumbledore. Snape did. Snape's black eyes averted from those red ones to the great snake swimming in her enchanted sphere. He could not stay here, he had to get to Potter, he had to speak to him while he still could.

"No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter."

"You sound like Lucius." The Dark Lord's voice was threateningly soft. "Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I know his weakness, you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come."

He had to try another approach. "But my Lord, he might be killed accidently by one other than yourself— "

"My instructions to my Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends—the more, the better—but do not kill him. But it is of you that I wish to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable."

He was careful to flatter, "My Lord knows I seek only to serve him. But—let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can— "

"I have told you no!" Snape caught the flash of his red eyes and noticed the way his lip curled to reveal his teeth as the Dark Lord spun to resume his pacing. His cloak ran over the floor, the sound was like the slithering of a snake. "My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!"

"My Lord, there can be no question, surely—?"

"—but there_ is_ a question, Severus. There is." The Dark Lord slid the wand between his white, spindly fingers. The slits of his eyes stared into the dark eyes of Snape. Severus kept his mind firmly Occluded. "Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?"

"I—I cannot answer that, my Lord."

"Can't you?" What little color remained in Snape's face was drained completely. His mouth was dry. "My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand. I did so, but Lucius' wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."

Snape's eyes remained fixed on the hissing serpent. He could barely feel his voice. "I—I have no explanation, my Lord."

"I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore."

Snape's heart skipped in his chest. His eyes now focused on the Dark Lord. He couldn't feel his body; his limbs numb and face unmoving.

"My Lord—let me go to the boy—"

"All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here, wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner…and I think I have the answer."

Snape could not speak. His heart beat so hard he was sure the Dark Lord could hear it. His vision failed him, and all he could see were the red eyes in front of him.

"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."

"My Lord—." His voice was hoarse.

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner." Incredibly, Snape's heart beat even faster. "You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."

No, he could not, he would not fail her again. He had to get away, now. He raised his wand, ready for battle. "My Lord!"

"It cannot be any other way," said the Dark Lord. "Master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

The Dark Lord made a swift movement with the wand, but nothing happened. For a split second Snape thought he had been reprieved. However, from the corner of his eye he saw the great snake's cage rolling towards him. Before he could do anything to protect himself, he found the snake swimming around his head. He had been engulfed into its enchanted cage. He saw the Dark Lord's lips move and heard a strange hissing noise.

Then he heard himself scream as there was a blinding pain in his neck. The snake re-coiled then leaped forward to pierce its fangs again into his white skin. He tried to push the cage away from him, but it did not budge. His vision was unfocusing, his breath became shallower. He fell to his knees, but the cage kept the rest of his body upright.

"I regret it," said Voldemort. His voice remained even and unemotional. He turned away, towards the door. With a lazy flick of his wand, the cage separated itself from its prisoner and followed its master. Without it holding him up, Snape collapsed on the floor. His body was shaking. He could faintly see the river of blood flowing away from him.

The color of his blood against the dusty floor reminded him of the way the wind always caught the auburn hair of the woman he loved. He thought of her smile, her laugh, her beautiful green eyes. Her eyes…suddenly he was staring into them. They looked too real to be a memory, had he died? No, his eyes wondered up to look at her red hair, instead finding messy black hair. His eyes widened. The boy. He promised he wouldn't fail her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the deep wounds in his neck prevented him from doing so. With great effort, he reached a hand out and grabbed Harry's robes, and pulled him closer.

He managed to make sound. His voice wasn't the same; however, it was masked by a horrible gurgling noise. "Take…it…Take…it…"

He willed every memory that would be of use to Harry out of him. The silvery substance filled the air around him. Snape watched as the boy filled it all into a flask. He hadn't wanted the boy to know of his affection and devotion to his mother, but he had to know, it was the only way he would understand everything Snape had done was to protect Harry. To protect Harry because he knew Lily would have wanted him to.

Snape could barely hold on to the front of Harry's robes. But Harry was still close enough to hear him.

"Look…at…me…" he whispered. Those eyes he adored so much stared back at him, startled, confused, scared.

He continued to stare in those eyes, barely taking notice to his changing surroundings. The roof peeled back, the room vanished and Severus was standing in a park. Its familiar summer scent filled his nose, he felt the green grass tickle his legs, he invited the warmth of the sun onto his pale skin.

Those green eyes smiled at him. She extended and arm out to him.

"Come one." The sound of her voice was a song to his heart. He reached out and noticed his hand was that of a boy's. He took her hand in his, surprised of its warmth and solidness.

She began to turn, intent on bring him to her favorite spot, but he stopped her.

"Lily, wait, I—," his voice, though no longer deep with age, still carried twenty years of despair. He couldn't believe he was with her. His eyes searched her face hungrily, determined to re-imprint it into his mind, but then hung his head in shame and stared at his worn out shoes "—I'm so sorry."

She reached out her other hand and pressed it to his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her soft touch. She didn't speak until he looked back into her eyes.

A soft smile played on her lips, "I missed you too, Sev."

And, with that, she pulled him to their favorite spot by the swing set.


End file.
